Chapter 24 — God
As usual, Saitama-sensei handled things in his own ridiculous way. After effortlessly enduring every one of the Monster King Orochi's attacks without a scratch, he finally decided it was time to get serious—or at least, his version of serious.
He inhaled deeply, then spat.
A single Serious Series: Serious Squirt Gun shot from his lips—nothing more than a glob of saliva propelled by raw strength. Yet the moment it hit Orochi's Gaia Cannon, the monstrous beam of planetary destruction instantly collapsed and dispersed like smoke in the wind.
The shockwave didn't stop there. Saitama's "attack" continued forward, crushing the titanic body of Orochi into nothing but vaporized fragments.
If Zenin Kyūjō hadn't been there, perhaps Orochi's regenerative instincts might have allowed him to rise again. But Kyūjō didn't allow that chance.
Summoning the luminous radiance of Starforce, he spread his hand toward the remnants of the Monster King. Divine light swept through the ruins, erasing every trace of Orochi—body, spirit, and energy—until there was not even dust left behind.
— — —
Deep beneath the surface—more than a thousand meters underground—Psykos, the true ruler of the Monster Association, sat frozen before her monitoring screens. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Orochi… died just like that?" she muttered, voice trembling.
The greatest creation of her life—the ultimate monster born from countless sacrifices and experiments—was gone. Defeated by a bald man who didn't even look remotely impressive.
And worse yet, he'd done it in one move. One utterly absurd, comical move.
Her body trembled as despair crept through her veins. Slowly, Psykos slumped to her knees, hands clutching the cold metal floor.
"Against an opponent that broken… what's even the point of fighting anymore…?" she whispered weakly. "I'm… so tired of this…"
— — —
"Kyūjō," Saitama said casually, scratching his smooth head as he walked over. "That 'strongest monster' you mentioned earlier… was that really all he had?"
Kyūjō stood in the middle of the devastated cavern, the faint shimmer of his Starforce fading around him. He simply nodded. But inside, he sighed deeply.
This guy… really is insane.
Orochi, a being feared as the pinnacle of monster evolution, had been treated like a warm-up target. And somehow, Saitama's power felt even more terrifying now than it had before.
"Kyūjō," Saitama continued, his eyes gleaming with innocent enthusiasm, "you said there's an even stronger enemy out there, right? Come on, let's find him! I'm getting pumped!"
Kyūjō looked at him for a moment, then nodded calmly. "Alright. But as we agreed before—Orochi was your turn. This next one's mine. If I can't handle it, then you step in."
Saitama's excitement dimmed a little. "Eh… you're not gonna kill him, are you? You're way stronger than that last guy."
Kyūjō didn't answer.
Truthfully, even he wasn't certain he could win.
The entity known as God in this world had never fought directly, even in the original timeline. Its true form, its nature, and the extent of its power remained an enigma.
If not for Saitama's presence beside him, Kyūjō would never have dared to seek such a confrontation.
— — —
Using his Infinity Perception, Kyūjō traced the faint signal of the so-called Black Cube—an artifact said to serve as a medium to communicate with God.
He led Saitama to a quiet, ruined chamber deep beneath the ground.
At its center rested a small obsidian cube, faintly pulsating with a sinister energy.
Saitama crouched down, tilting his head. "What's this? I thought we were going to find that stronger guy you mentioned."
"He's inside this," Kyūjō replied evenly, gesturing toward the cube. "Take a look yourself."
Saitama reached out to pick it up—
—but the air behind them suddenly rippled, like disturbed water.
The space itself twisted violently, and a figure stepped out from the shimmering distortion.
A tall man, wrapped in a dark battle suit with silver patterns, exuding calm yet immense power. His very presence warped gravity around him.
Blast.
The Rank 1 S-Class Hero.
The legendary man capable of manipulating space and gravity—one rarely seen even by the highest-ranking heroes.
"…You two," Blast spoke, his tone firm but controlled. "Hand that object over to me."
He extended a hand toward them, eyes sharp.
Kyūjō wasn't surprised. He had anticipated this. But even with Blast standing before him, he didn't flinch.
With a faint, knowing smile, he replied, "So, you're Blast, huh? We're heroes from the Association too. But we found this first. If you want it, you'll have to wait until we're done with it."
Blast's expression hardened instantly.
Another fool chasing divine power, he thought grimly.
So many had tried to use the cube to reach God—none ever returned unchanged. For Blast, Kyūjō's words were a warning sign.
His calm demeanor vanished, replaced by sharp hostility. Without another word, he vanished—reappearing in a flash right beside the cube, his hand reaching for it at impossible speed.
But before his fingers could touch the surface, a pale jade-white hand appeared from nowhere, clamping his wrist to the ground with crushing force.
Blast's pupils contracted sharply.
Fast…! he thought, stunned. No one's ever matched my movement speed before…!
He could bend space, fold distance, even step through dimensions. Yet somehow, this man had moved faster than his own teleportation.
But Kyūjō wasn't just anyone. He had already predicted Blast's approach before the man even acted.
In terms of pure speed, perhaps only **Saitama—the Bald Demon King himself—**could surpass Blast, especially when using his "Serious Full-Speed Mode," where he moved faster than light.
Aside from him, no one else could compare.
Blast's face grew tense as he glared at Kyūjō.
"Do you even understand what that thing is?" he demanded. "There's a being inside it—something that calls itself God! I can sense your power, but don't tell me you're planning to seek strength from that monster?!"
His voice turned sharp, almost desperate. "The power it gives can be taken back anytime it wishes. Do you want to become a slave to that thing?!"
Kyūjō's grip tightened slightly before he answered in his calm, composed tone.
"No. Who said I want its power?"
His lips curved into a small, almost amused smile.
"I just want… to fight it."
Blast froze.
"…Fight… God?" he echoed in disbelief.
For a moment, he could only stare, his mind blank. Then his expression twisted into one of sheer bewilderment—and maybe a little pity.
The look in his eyes said it all: This guy's insane.
He tried to pull his arm free, but Kyūjō's hold didn't budge in the slightest. Even for someone who could manipulate gravity, that grip felt like a vice of unbreakable energy.
Blast's jaw tightened. He still had one option left—dimensional escape.
But the instant he activated his power, a strange current of energy surged from Kyūjō's hand into his arm, flooding his body.
Blast's entire form stiffened. The spatial flow around him collapsed.
What… is this…?
Kyūjō released his grip and spoke calmly, "That's enough."
He knew exactly what he'd done—his Starforce Energy had temporarily sealed Blast's dimensional manipulation. For the next few minutes, even the top hero of the Association wouldn't be able to warp space again.
— — —
For a long moment, silence filled the underground chamber. Blast glared sharply at Zenin Kyūjō, irritation written across his face.
"What did you do to me?" he demanded, voice cold.
Kyūjō merely shrugged, his tone calm and unbothered.
"Nothing special. Don't worry—once the energy flowing through your body dissipates, your abilities will return to normal. But for now… you can't stop us. So, if you don't mind—step aside."
Blast didn't move. He stayed right where he was, unmoving, his expression unreadable.
Kyūjō, however, had already lost interest. He crouched down, wrapping the Black Cube in a faint glow of Starforce before lifting it carefully. After observing it for a moment, he tossed it lightly toward Saitama.
Saitama caught it, bent over, and pressed his eye against the small opening on its surface. Inside, he saw an endless void—like a night sky studded with distant stars.
And at its center, a colossal being—hundreds of meters tall—sat cross-legged, arms wrapped around its knees, as if in a deep slumber.
Then, a low, resonant voice echoed directly inside Saitama's mind.
"Do you desire power?"
Saitama jerked upright. "Huh? Kyūjō! There's someone inside this box! He just asked if I wanted power! You heard that too, right?"
He handed the cube back, eyes wide.
Kyūjō nodded slowly. "Hold on. Let me figure out how to enter that dimension…"
Before he could continue, Blast cut in.
"I can help you enter that place—the dimension where God resides. But first, you'll remove whatever strange energy you planted in my body."
Saitama blinked. "Huh. You suddenly sound helpful. Why would you help us?"
Blast sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I'm not helping you. But I can't stop you either. Without my intervention, you might cause more destruction to Earth than the monster you just killed."
He took a deep breath, his gaze serious.
"Do you know where the term 'God-Level Threat' came from when the Hero Association was founded? I was the one who created that classification—to describe disasters directly connected to that being called God."
His voice lowered.
"God is… a singular existence. I don't know where it came from, but from what we've discovered, it sees Earth—or the life that thrives on it—as a threat to its own eternal existence."
"That's why it constantly tries to destroy the planet, spreading chaos through indirect means. Because of certain cosmic laws, it can't act here directly. So, it created intermediaries—the monsters… and these black cubes."
He gestured toward the cube.
"Anyone who touches one receives a fraction of God's power. But without realizing it, their minds begin to twist. They start hating humanity, rejecting society… eventually wanting to eradicate mankind entirely."
Blast's eyes darkened as he looked at them both.
"Examples? The Homeless Emperor. Psykos, leader of the Monster Association. Both reached the pinnacle of Dragon-Level through God's power."
He paused before adding grimly, "Even some of the enemies I defeated years ago displayed the same symptoms. That's why I've been hunting down these cubes—to keep others from falling into its grasp."
He clenched his fist. "But honestly… I don't understand how you two can touch it without being corrupted. That's the only reason I'm choosing to cooperate—because if that's true, you might be the only ones capable of opposing Him."
A faint weariness crept into his voice. "I've tried destroying the cubes… countless times. It's useless. So please, if you still have your sanity, listen to me. Hand the cube over. Let me deal with it."
— — —
A few seconds of silence passed.
Then, Saitama, the "Strongest Bald Demon of Earth," clapped one fist into his palm and said with an earnest expression,
"Alright then…"
He grinned brightly.
"Let's go beat up this 'God' guy until he's dead!"
Blast: "…???"
He froze.
All that explanation… completely wasted.
Did this bald man even understand what kind of entity they were about to face?
A bead of cold sweat rolled down Blast's temple.
People who received a fraction of God's power had become Dragon-Peak threats—living disasters that could erase cities. And now this man wanted to challenge the source itself?
Before Blast could argue, Kyūjō nodded in agreement.
"He's right. Let's get started. Blast, send us in. You don't have to come—if you do, we'll just have to protect you."
He added casually, "Oh, and one more thing, Blast. Tatsumaki's running low on energy. So while we're gone, finish off the remaining monsters. There's still Evil Natural Water, Homeless Emperor, and Black Sperm causing trouble. I'm sure you can handle them, right?"
As he spoke, Kyūjō raised his hand. From across the room, the luminous Starforce he'd implanted within Blast flowed out like mist, returning to him in streaks of light.
Blast stared, expression darkening.
Did he just… dismiss me?
He, the No. 1 S-Class Hero, had just been told not to get in the way.
Suppressing a groan, Blast rubbed his forehead again and looked at the two lunatics before him—one silver-haired, one bald—as a heavy sigh escaped his lips.
"…Fine," he muttered. "Good luck, both of you."
He lifted his hand, eyes narrowing. "Three hours from now, I'll reopen a spatial gate. If—and that's a big if—you manage to kill God, I'll bring you back. But if you fail…"
His gaze hardened. "I'm not dying with you."
With that, Blast raised his palm. The black cube floated into the air, encircled by a gravitational field that shimmered faintly around it. He poured his energy into it, locking onto the coordinates of the divine dimension.
Moments later, the air began to distort. A massive, glowing portal spiraled open beside Saitama and Kyūjō—a rift leading directly into the realm of God.
Blast looked at them one last time.
"Once you enter, you'll be in His world. Think carefully—once you step through, there's no guarantee you can return. In fact, your survival chances are—"
But before he could finish, both Saitama and Kyūjō had already leapt into the portal without hesitation—one after the other.
Blast froze mid-sentence.
"…Would it kill you to let me finish talking?" he muttered.
Lowering his arm, he sighed deeply. "Honestly… is it really that hard to show a little respect to the number-one hero in the world?"
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